How Different Things Would Have Been
by IonaCarta
Summary: How would Harry's life have been if his parents hand't been killed by Voldemort?
1. Chapter 1

Harry woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked in the kitchen downstairs. Groggily, he sat up and pushed the covers back off his legs, then, suddenly, he sat bolt upright, eyes wide, excitement coursing through him. Today was the day!

He fumbled for his glasses on his bedside table, shoved them onto his face, and scrambled into his clothes. He almost tripped on the way downstairs, running so fast that he missed the bottom step entirely. His momentum carried him on through the door and into the kitchen where his father was standing over the frying pan. His mother looked up from the kitchen table where she had been sorting through the morning post. His little sister banged her spoon on the table noisily, singing a nonsense song of her own invention. Their scruffy tabby cat was staring longingly at the bacon in the pan from on top of the wall cupboard and outside Harry could see uninterrupted blue sky, a perfect day for his first journey to Hogwarts.

"Morning, Harry!" called James, as he flipped a piece of bacon over to cook the other side, "Feeling good for today?"

Harry nodded as he crossed to the cupboard and pulled down four plates. "Nervous though... What was it like on your first day of school?"

James put down his spatula and looked thoughtful. "That was the first day I met all my best friends. I remember walking down the train almost to the very end, and then I walked right into Sirius because I was checking the compartments for empty seats, and we both dropped all our luggage, and we only just managed to get his smaller suitcase into the nearest compartment before Malfoy came to give us a good scolding... he was a prefect that year, made life difficult for Sirius and me... anyway, Moony was already in that compartment, reading a book probably, but he said he didn't mind us sitting there... then Wormtail came in of course, some of the Slytherins had been tormenting him. About fifteen minutes after that, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen walked in, and I fell in love right there and then." James smirked at his wife.

"Careful, James, you'll burn the bacon." Lily smiled.

"Oh sh-" James turned back to the pan and ruefully held up a slightly blackened piece of bacon.

Harry chuckled. "It'll be fine, Dad!" James shrugged and dished out bacon onto the plates Harry had set out. Lily cut up Charlotte's food into small pieces before tucking into her own. Harry took a bite of his- only slightly- burned bacon and chewed, knowing that this was the last meal the Potters would eat together for a while.

Harry hurried along beside his father as they walked through London on the way to King's cross. James' stride was long and Harry had almost to run to keep up with him, but he didn't mind. He was used to holding his fathers hand on the street in order to stay together, but today, as his first day of school, he would not need to do so. He was determined of that.

Ahead of them, a redhaired family was clustered around the entrance to the station.

James called out a greeting. "Molly!"

The mother of the group looked up, looking harassed. When she saw the Potters, she smiled and called a halt to her rowdy group of children.

"James! Doing the Hogwarts run as well I take it?" She looked inquiringly at Harry, who nodded. "It's Ron's first year as well. Maybe he'll be in the same house as-"

"Harry." supplied Lily, catching up to the group with Charlotte, who was being uncooperative.

A boy with a freckled face and a long nose peered around two of his brothers. "Did somebody say Ron?"

"Yes, dear, come and meet Harry! He'll be in your year." Ron stepped forward and held out a hand. Harry shook it.

A small girl with long red hair was peering anxiously around behind her mother, looking toward the station.

"What is it, Ginny, dear?" asked Molly.

"I think I just saw Neville Longbottom!" every head in the small group turned to look in the same direction as Ginny. They just saw a head of short brown hair disappearing through the doors.

"He'll be in our year too, won't he?" Ron asked his mother. Harry watched her, eager for this information on the boy he had idolised. Molly nodded, but there was a frown on her face.

"Don't pester the poor boy. He's had enough troubles, I doubt he'll want much attention!" Ron and Harry nodded.

Lily looked down at her watch and gasped. "The train's leaving in five minutes! Come on!" Molly and her children moved towards the door, as did Harry's family.

On the station platform, Harry lost sight of Ron and Ginny and the rest of the red haired family through the crowds of people. James was craning his neck, looking around for other parents of children Harry's age.

They made their way towards the train. James loaded Harry's trunk into a compartment, the looked down at his son. Harry opened his mouth to speak, all the worries he'd had about school, but before he could voice any of them, the whistle blew. James knelt down and pulled Harry into a brief hug. Lily smiled and wrapped her free arm around Harry, and Charlotte, who was balanced on Lily's hip tugged on his hair. Harry looked up, tears smarting in his eyes, and he was not entirely sure all of them were from the sharp pain in his scalp.

"Goodbye, Harry," James said, turning to exit the train, "and good luck!"

"Make some new friends!" called Lily, already on the platform. Harry leaned out of the window and waved frantically as the train began to move. His parents waved back, smiling, and Charlotte waved her chubby little fist at him. Harry watched them out of sight, then turned and sat down in his compartment, feeling alone for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

A round, nervous face peered through the window of his compartment. Short, brown hair barely covered the lightning shaped scar on the wrinkled forehead as the boy mouthed "Can I come in?"

Harry nodded excitedly, barely able to keep a grin off his face. Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived, slid through the door in a way slightly lacking in grace, and sat down in a seat opposite Harry. Harry couldn't help it; he stared at Neville in awe. The other boy looked awkwardly down at his feet, then looked up, defiantly.

"You don't have to stare, you know!" Harry looked away, suddenly ashamed. He tried to imagine how he would feel in Neville's place. A round, nervous face peered through the window of his compartment. Short, brown hair barely covered the lightning shaped scar on the wrinkled forehead as the boy mouthed "Can I come in?"  
Harry nodded excitedly, barely able to keep a grin off his face. Neville Longbottom, the boy who lived, slid through the door in a way slightly lacking in grace, and sat down in a seat opposite Harry. Harry couldn't help it; he stared at Neville in awe. The other boy looked awkwardly down at his feet, then looked up, defiantly.

"You don't have to stare, you know!" Harry looked away, suddenly ashamed. He tried to imagine how he would feel in Neville's place.  
Neville had been barely a year old when his father had stepped in front of the curse aimed for the baby. His mother had been driven wild by grief and was shortly tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange. Neville had been rejected by his grandmother, who had mourned her son almost religiously and blamed his death on her grandson, and Neville had been brought up in a muggle orphanage. The story was well known throughout the wizarding world. Harry could not imagine it.

"Sorry." He muttered. Neville shook his head, "don't worry about it. I figure most people are going to stare."

Harry smiled nervously. He had always imagined what he would say if he ever came face to face with this boy, how in awe of him he was, how he idolised him, but faced with this shy, nervous, awkward boy, he couldn't say any of them.

"So, um, were you brought up in the wizard world?" Harry nodded.

"Both my parents are magical. My mum was raised as a muggle though."

Neville frowned. "I've heard that word a few times... What does muggle mean?"

"It means someone who was born without magic." Harry explained, "sometimes wizards are born to muggle parents though."

"And is Hogwarts the only wizard school?"

"No, but its the only one in England. There are schools in other countries, like the American school Cricketshorn, um... Beauxbatons, that's in France, and Durmstrang, no one knows where that one is..."

Neville nodded eagerly. "Are wizards from muggle families-"

"Muggleborns, they're called"

"Right, muggleborns, are they common?"

"Wizards and wit

ches are born into muggle families more often than non magical folk are born to wizarding families. Those are called squibs. But they're pretty rare."

Harry continued to answer Neville's questions about the wizarding world and the two boys gradually became more relaxed. When the food trolley came round, Neville bought armfuls of sweets, none of which he had tasted before, and he and Harry shared every flavour beans and swapped chocolate frog cards until it began to grow dark.

They changed into their new school robes when the lamps came up throughout the train and sat both with their noses pressed against the window, searching for a first glimpse of Hogwarts.

 _ **The American school "Cricketshorn" is the invention of user Qoheleth (also Bar Sira), the story in which it appears can be found through this link: s/5195021/1/The-Girl-Who-Lived**_


	3. Chapter 3

**NOT A CHAPTER**

 _I think that by doing this I've strayed so far from the original plot that to reasonably continue this story I would have to rewrite the entire series. So instead writing this as a continuous story I'm going to write a series of one-shots set in the same AU_


End file.
